Disaster Button
by realnikkiheat
Summary: Detective Richard Castle meets best-selling novelist Kate Beckett in a club. "Why, Beckett? So I can be another one of your conquests?" "Or I could be one of yours." Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_Throw forward to later, you look light on your feet  
When you whirled in the room I was nailed to my seat_

_I'm like a prisoner getting ready to talk  
I feel the blood in my hands and the threat in your walk  
_-Snow Patrol, '_Disaster Button'_

* * *

Rick takes the shot Esposito is shoving in his face and drinks it down before he can stop himself. The club is _loud_- bass thumping, people yelling for drinks, Ryan and Esposito cheering drunkenly. It's too loud to even hear himself think, which is just what he needs.

The rational part of him, the part that's a responsible detective, knows this is a bad idea. They're still on call tomorrow, and the Captain will have their asses if he knows what they've been up to. But the rational part of him is buried somewhere underneath a pleasant tipsy haze.

"Gotta see a man about a horse," Espo shouts over the music, sliding off his stool.

"I'll come with you!" Ryan mirrors his movement.

"Dude!" Espo is scowling now, "Can you not?"

"_What_? When you gotta go…" Rick doesn't catch the rest of the argument as the partners stumble off toward the back of the club.

Those two are so _married_, and the entire precinct knows it.

Castle can't help but shift awkwardly now that he's alone at the bar. Clubs aren't exactly his scene anymore. Sure, he had his wild child days- _very_ wild, depending on whom you ask- but that all stopped once Alexis was born. It's been fifteen years since he decided he had to clean up his act and join the academy, and he hasn't been much of a party animal since then.

…Admittedly, there were some dark days after Meredith left him. Some one night stands and risky living that he's not so proud of- the reappearance of teenage Castle, with his string of booze and women.

For the most part, though, he's tried to be a good dad, a good cop. By the book. He gave up parties and drinking and a revolving door of women in favour of his daughter, his family, meaningful relationships. Living life more as the one-and-done type.

Except that it's been over six months since Jordan left him to pursue a career in the FBI, and the bitterness is finally starting to fade into restlessness. He's been antsy and on edge for weeks, wanting to live just a bit dangerously.

And then today- the case- closing his eyes and seeing a little red-headed girl sprawled in an alley.

So, yeah. This is exactly what he needs.

He'll stay for another hour or two, watch Espo make a fool out of himself with some hottie, laugh at Ryan's clumsy attempt to act the wing-man, and then head home drunk enough to relax, but sober enough to make it to work the next morning if they get a call.

He turns back to the bar, reaching for the beer he's been nursing- only his second of the night, but it's almost empty, and mixed with the tequila the boys forced on him-

Yeah, he'd better call it quits soon.

He's taking a long swig and craning his neck in the direction the guys wandered off in, wondering if they got held up fixing their makeup, when he feels a presence at his side.

He has one second to observe the warmth of a body beside him before a breathy voice speaks in his ear.

* * *

Kate Beckett is drunk. Not drunk enough to steal a police horse- because that was _one time_ and she'd had a bad night and why can't everybody just let that go?- but drunk enough to be bored with watching Maddie flirt. The blonde is currently draped over two different guys on the dance floor, and it was fun to watch for a while, but Kate's never really been one for the sidelines. She wants in on the action.

She scans the room from her place on the edge of the dance floor, looking for someone… distracting. Someone to distract her from Paula's shrill nagging and Gina's passive-aggressive comments and the words _writer's block_ haunting her from the back of her mind.

So what if she decided to kill off her most profitable character? _She_ pulls the strings, not Gina. And the woman should know by now that pressuring her never works out well; Kate will just procrastinate and act out and get herself in all kinds of delicious trouble just to watch her publishers squirm. She's not Black Pawn's bad-girl bestseller for nothing.

She's considering doing a loop around the dance floor, trying her luck in the throng of people, when she spots him at the bar.

He's sitting alone, reaching for his beer, the very picture of tall, dark, and handsome. Beckett can see the way the muscles of his back move when he reaches over the counter, can see his biceps bulging against the rolled-up sleeves of his red button-down. He rakes a hand through his hair and she's sold, stalking towards the bar.

He's facing away from her, looking towards the back of the room, when she leans over, right against his ear, and puts on her best bedroom voice.

"Hi," she's as breathless as she can be while still making sure he can hear her over the music.

His head snaps toward her and his eyes- _so blue _- rove over her face quickly before they return to hers, looking almost amused.

"Hi?" He echoes, one eyebrow raised. "Is that supposed to be your line?"

Kate smirks- _yes, fight back_- and it's like a switch is turned on inside her. She can feel her body thrumming with tension, preparing for the familiar feel of the chase.

"I find it's usually pretty effective," she shrugs, sliding onto the stool beside him and tossing her hair for good measure. She doesn't miss the way his eyes find the bare skin of her neck.

Leaning over, she signals to the bartender for two more beers, raising her own eyebrow when she looks back to see her new companion looking surprised- or maybe impressed?

"Isn't that supposed to be my move?"

"What can I say? I'm more of a take charge kind of girl," she slides his beer toward him, finding his eyes and sending him a challenging look.

"I'll bet you are," he mumbles, not hiding the way he runs his eyes over her body. Kate's momentarily distracted by the play of his throat as he takes a swig of his drink.

"Well, thanks for the beer…"

"Kate," is all she gives him, holding out her hand.

"Rick," he returns her handshake and she feels sparks- actual currents of electricity- race through her body from the point of contact. Her dark eyes find his and she knows he must feel it too by the way his breath hitches, how he holds on for just a moment too long.

She shifts toward him, crosses her leg and revels in the feel of his eyes on the bare skin of her thigh. Just when she thinks this handshake is about to get indecent, they're interrupted by a loud yell and a hand on his shoulder.

"Castle!" The man cries, "This is what I'm talking about! We're here to have _fun_!" He has short hair and dark skin, a drink in his hand as he yells at them. Behind him, a scrawnier looking guy stumbles up, crashing into his friend.

"I didn't realize I was interrupting boys' night, _Castle_," Kate grins, dropping his hand.

"No, no," the scrawny guy slurs, "you are _more_ than welcome!" Kate can't help but notice that he seems to be wearing a three-piece suit to a bar…

"You are _just_ what this guy needs!" The first guy shouts, and Rick is looking a little mortified now. "After a case like today's, even the Captain would be buying him a drink!"

That catches her attention, and she whips her head back to Castle, smiling a little half-smile, "You're a cop?"

"Detective!" The second man yells, losing his balance momentarily before he latches onto his friend again.

"Homicide detective," Rick breaks in, prying his friend's hand off his shoulder. "Kate, these are Esposito and Ryan, my teammates," he points to each of them respectively, but Kate's eyes are still glued to him because she's pretty sure he just got ten times hotter.

A cop? A sleazy club on a Friday night? A tough case?

There's a story here.

"This isn't exactly a cop bar…" she points out. Rick's teammates both open their mouths, but he cuts them off.

"Tough case," his tone is clipped, and he follows it up with a long swig of beer.

"Tough, like, hard to solve?" Beckett pushes, ignoring his obvious discomfort. She didn't become a New York Times best-selling author by letting a little resistance throw her off the trail of a story. "Or, tough like, you were taken hostage by CIA spies and forced to go underground?"

"Just tough," is his reply, but there's laughter in his eyes as his buddies guffaw drunkenly.

"Well _we_," Esposito draws out the word as he grabs Ryan by the arm, tugging him toward the middle of the room, "will leave you two alone and go make our own fun on the dance floor."

"We will?" Ryan's face scrunches up, confused.

"_Yes_, we will," Esposito says pointedly, and Kate has to laugh at his effort. "That girl in the red tube top has been undressing me with her eyes all night, and it's time to go in for the kill."

"I think _you've_ been doing the undressing," Ryan mumbles, still oblivious, but letting his partner lead him away.

"You just be careful, boss," Esposito calls back, pointing at Rick. "That one looks like trouble."

Kate leans in, close enough so Rick can hear her husky voice over the noise of the club, their noses almost touching.

"I'd be _happy_ to let you cuff me."

She watches his eyes widen momentarily, feels his soft exhale against the skin of her face, before he pulls back.

"So you know why I'm here," he takes a long sip of his drink before he looks back at her, and she feels like she's just gained the upper hand- she knows the signs of a man trying to pull it together. "Why are you prowling the bar all alone?"

"I'm here with my friend," Kate nods over her shoulder, glancing at the dance floor. "The blonde who looks like she's trying to climb that guy in the polo shirt."

Castle chuckles, "_Girls' _night out?"

"We're celebrating. Maddie and I are opening a restaurant, and the renovations officially began today," the lie rolls off her tongue easily.

He quirks an eyebrow, raising his beer to her, "Well, congrats to you and Maddie, then."

Kate clinks her drink against his, taking a long sip, before she flags down the bartender and orders two shots of tequila.

"To you and your team," she plops the glasses in front of him, along with the limes and salt the bartender hands her, "for solving a tough case."

Rick pauses for a moment, looks like he might refuse, but then he grabs the salt, licking his hand before he sprinkles it over his skin.

Beckett's transfixed by the sight of his tongue, can feel her body heating up as she watches it dart out to lick across the tan skin between his thumb and forefinger. She's overcome with the urge to grab his hand and lick the salt off herself, but he's downing his shot before she can move.

So instead, she prepares her own shot, drawing her tongue slowly across the inside of her wrist, holding his eyes as she does. She licks her lips briefly- watches his eyes flick downward- before she snaps her head back to drink, welcoming the burn of tequila on her tongue. Between that and his eyes raking over her, her body is simmering at this point. When she looks back at him, he's got his mouth parted, breathing heavily as he watches her suck on her lime.

Kate's whole body is buzzing now, a heady mixture of lust and power running through her veins. She moistens her lips- watches him watch her _again_- and shifts even closer. The brush of her knee against his slacks- rough, warm fabric on her sensitive skin- sends a shiver down her spine.

The contact seems to break him out of his trance, because he turns back to his beer and quickly downs a large mouthful. Doesn't move his leg away from hers, though…

"So," he huffs, but it comes out too breathy to be casual, "why'd you ditch your friend over there? Isn't there some sort of girl code about this kind of thing?"

Kate shrugs, pursing her lips, the tart flavor of lime still rolling around in her mouth, "I get bored."

"Yeah?" Castle raises one eyebrow and leans back toward her. She meets him halfway and they're so close now that she can feel the heat radiating off his chest, can smell the alcohol on his breath. She wants to _taste_ it, damn it, and he's got about five more seconds to take her, or else she's going for it-

"Is that why you killed off Clara Strike?"

* * *

To her credit, she has the grace to blush even as she falters, stares at him wide-eyed for a moment before she pulls back.

"You knew," it's not a question, and Rick thinks she might even look a little impressed.

"Your books are on my shelves," he smirks. "I remember your picture because you looked _way_ too hot for a dowdy old mystery writer…"

That's all he'll confess. Now's not the time to tell her how he lost himself in her first novel when he used to sit up at night in Alexis' room, too afraid to leave the tiny thing alone even while she slept; how later, after Meredith left, when he was consumed with insomnia and blind panic at the thought of taking care of his little girl all alone, he would read late into the night until he finally fell asleep to her words.

Won't tell her how he first fell in love with the genre when he was nineteen, trying to keep him and his mother from falling apart after his father disappeared. How even today, years later, the pain will come flooding back. But now it's _her_ books that comfort him.

"A fan?" She raises her eyebrows challengingly.

"Well, what can I say?" Rick shrugs, "You are…what is it again?" He lowers his voice, teasing, "_The mistress of the macabre…_"

"That is what they call me," she puts an elbow on the bar and rests her head on her hand, nodding slowly as she takes him in.

"That's not all they call you," Rick smirks, not taking his eyes off her as he takes another swig of beer. It's almost gone now… "I read Page Six, too. I believe the term _maneater_ has been thrown around a few times…"

Kate barks out a laugh at that, ducking her head and glancing up at him from under her (_so very long_) eyelashes, "Well, you can't believe everything you read…"

But the look on her face is telling him that, in this case, yes, he can.

He only smirks, mirroring her position against the bar, moving closer so that their legs press together harder. The warmth of her bare skin, even through his slacks, sends delightful shivers up and down his body.

"I'm impressed you played along so well," she tosses her hair again and he's left staring at the long expanse of her neck, pale and smooth and just begging for his lips. "Must be those detective skills of yours."

"They come in handy," Rick smirks and he's thankful, so thankful that he was able to hide his shock- the feeling of surprise and awe and _holy shit_ when he turned around and saw his favourite author, tall and beautiful and breathing in his ear.

"You know," she squints at him, "_Final Strike_ doesn't actually come out until tomorrow. You're not supposed to know that she's dead."

"Please," Rick huffs, "It's all over-" He freezes.

"The _fansites_?" Kate's grinning now, victorious, like she's just cornered her prey.

"The- early reviews-" he stumbles and _shit_. She's already talking circles around him, and he's just showed his hand.

"Mmmhmm," she hums, looking up at him and smirking as she shifts ever closer. "So, which one are you? Beckettlover564? StrikeFan88?"

"Why _did_ you kill her?" Castle presses on, ignoring her meaningful smile and the heat rising under his collar. This is a game, he knows that much.

Beckett shrugs, "Like I said, I get bored."

"That's it? You were just done with her?" Rick tries to sound casual, but there's a part of him that needs to know, even through the alcohol, why she did it. Why she killed off the woman who had been with him through some of the hardest times in his life.

"I had told all her stories," Kate confesses, looking serious now, eyes alight with some spark. "There's was nowhere left to go with her. I need something _new_." She inches in even closer, until their noses touch.

"_Like_," she sing-songs, "maybe a tough but charming NYPD detective…"

Castle grins and swallows hard; he can feel her breath on his lips, count every freckle on her cheek.

"I little _too_ ruggedly handsome for the usual cop," she continues. "He probably had options- more socially acceptable options. But something happened."

Rick stiffens, retreats a few inches before he can stop himself. But she's on a roll now, eyes dark and predatory, lost in the story.

"Not to him, no," her eyes flick over his face, "he's wounded, but not that wounded. But to someone he loved…"

He sits up straight now, staring at her blankly. Something inside of him wants to stop her, but the words won't come- he's caught up in her smooth voice, in the story she's telling. It's almost hypnotic.

"And he could have lived with that, only the people responsible were never caught," the knowingness in her gaze is equal parts infuriating and arousing. She pauses then, looking far too satisfied with herself, eyebrow raised as if seeking confirmation.

"Cute trick," Rick finally manages to rasp out. "But don't think you know me." The urge to run is warring with the urge to throw himself at her. He feels like he's just finished a great book, or maybe a great fuck. He feels like he needs a cigarette.

"We could rectify that," her smile is back, all sly and dirty with just a hint of tongue peeking out. "What do you say we get out of here? Debrief each other?"

"Why, Beckett? So I can be another one of your conquests?" He teases, leaning back in, his wall already firmly back in place.

"Or I could be one of yours," she returns quickly.

She's right there, eyebrow quirked and eyes shining, lips so close he can already taste them on his mouth. All he has to do is move one inch and he can have her, but there's still something- a voice in his head that pushes through the drunken fog (and sounds suspiciously like Alexis, or maybe even his mother). It's reminding him that he's on call tomorrow and he's already _way_ too drunk; that he stopped having affairs exactly like this for a very good reason.

She must see it on his face, because she pulls back (and it takes every ounce of dignity in him not to chase her lips with his own).

"It could be great," she offers, even as she flags down the bartender. Castle can't help grinning; he always did like playing with fire, always had a thing for bad girls that he couldn't quite repress.

"You have no idea."

She places his shot in front of him and nods expectantly. Everything in him is screaming that this is a _bad idea_, that she is something unpredictable and out of control, and a little _too_ much danger for him. Yet he finds himself reaching for the shot, holding her dark gaze as he goes through the motions of salt-tequila-lime.

The alcohol is still burning in his throat when she grabs him by the wrist, tugging his arm toward her. Before he can stop her, she's _licking_ a hot, wet stripe up his inner forearm and _Jesus Christ he is so done_. She licks the salt off him, slow and burning and shooting all the blood in his body straight down, eyes never leaving his. He can barely breathe as she downs her shot and sucks hard on the lime and okay, really, that has to be just for show-

She stands, never letting go of his arm, and tugs him toward the crowd of people in the middle of the room.

"Let's dance, Detective."


	2. Chapter 2

_And suddenly it lifts the roof off the place,  
It puts a vault in my step and a grin on my face_

_It can't contain me, but you'd need an army  
To get be back in my box, or snap the branches off me  
_-Snow Patrol, _'Disaster Button'_

* * *

Kate twines her fingers lightly with Castle's and pulls him into the middle of the dance floor. She puts a little extra swing in her hips; can feel his gaze on her ass as she moves through the crowd.

It's fun, this chase. Most guys fall all over themselves for her, especially when she looks like this- little black dress that could almost be called decent if the neckline was just a bit higher, if the skirt wasn't quite so short. It's not often she has to work for it.

She turns around to face him once they've reached the center of the room, bodies on every side forcing them closer together. It's far too loud here to attempt conversation, but that's fine.

The first rule of writing is show, don't tell. Kate's always been a firm believer in applying that philosophy to everyday life.

She presses right up against him, rolls her hips along his body in time to the music.

Beckett lets go of his hand to wrap her arms around his neck, and she feels dwarfed even with her heels on. He's tall and _big_, watching her with dark, glazed eyes; she can just imagine the broad line of his shoulders overtop her, his hips holding her down, body surrounding her.

His large hands settle on her waist, and even the light touch is enough to shoot sparks down to her core.

She can smell him now as she pulls him in closer, their bodies sliding against each other. He smells like sweat and spice and alcohol, and she pulls him down enough to bury her nose in his neck. She can feel him shiver as she breathes against his skin, feel the way his grip on her tightens.

He's breathing heavily in her ear, fingers clutching her hips as he pulls her against him. It's enough to make her gasp, and her lips open against the skin of his neck, brushing over him in what can barely be called a kiss.

His fingers tighten even more, digging into her waist almost to the point of pain, and she gives in. The taste of salt and sweat overwhelms her as she places slow, sucking kisses up the line of his throat, fingers toying with the fine hairs at the back of his neck. He's practically panting now, but she takes her time, moving up to taste the light stubble at his jaw. She grins at the roughness on her tongue.

Finally, _finally_, he snaps. Rick pulls away enough to find her lips with his own, quickly plunging his tongue into her already open mouth. Kate can't help the tiny moan that escapes as he plays with her, and she slides her fingers up into his hair, clutching him to her.

She can feel one of his hands leave her hip, sliding slowly up over the curves of her body, sending shivers through her as it brushes over the side of her breast. It comes to rest on her neck and he takes control, angling her so he can deepen their kiss. Kate nips at his tongue and grinds against him, letting out another moan at the clear evidence of his arousal straining through his slacks.

She's panting when he pulls away, sliding his lips down over her chin, her throat. He glides his hand up to grip her hair and tilts her head back even farther, tongue coming out to taste her. Kate gasps, rubbing her upper half against him and shuddering at the friction.

Their hips are coming together at a steady pace now- she's practically _dry humping_ this guy on the dance floor as he laves at her shoulder, her collar bone, any piece of exposed skin. His other hand slides down to grasp her ass, holding her to him, and they both gasp as they come together in just the right way, his erection sliding over her through their clothes.

She grabs him by the side of his face, pulls him back up so she can take his earlobe between her teeth. She grins around his skin as he groans.

"You _sure_ you don't want to be a conquest?" She pants.

He pulls back just enough to make eye contact, noses bumping together as they continue to move with each other. His gaze is black and hazy and _burning_.

"Your place," is all he manages to get out, voice low and thick.

She texts Maddie quickly as they wait- _impatiently_- for their coats; sees him sending a message of his own. His cop buddies?

She doesn't really care.

Soon enough she's got them heading towards her place in a cab, jackets discarded on the seat as they fall into each other once again.

She's half on top of him, rubbing against his thigh at just the right angle as they battle it out with their tongues. His hands are all over her- neck, waist, knee, brushing up her side, skirting over her breast- leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She's not doing much better, clutching at his back, his shoulders, the solid muscle of his thigh.

She moans into his mouth when he bites at her bottom lip, bringing one hand down to palm him through his pants. She feels him shudder, swallows his grunt as she works him over, rubbing hard through the fabric. He only gives her a few seconds to enjoy it- the heat of him, the size of him, a taste of what's to come- before he pushes her hand away and nips at her tongue in warning.

Kate thinks she hears the driver snigger through the fog in her brain. They're giving him one _hell_ of a show, but she doesn't mind. The cabbies of New York City have seen worse- she knows this from personal experience.

All too soon and not soon enough, they arrive at her building. She rips herself off of him and digs into her coat pocket, throwing a handful of bills at the driver and pulling Rick out of the car in one swift move.

They stumble up the front steps together, his hand leaving hers to wrap around her waist, and she feels him chuckle in her ear.

"Nice digs, Writer Girl."

She whirls around, sees him staring up at her building, and stops his movement with two fingers to his chest. When she has his attention, Kate levels him with her best predatory stare.

"That's Writer _Woman_."

He barks out a laugh, but it's lost in her mouth as she pounces on him once again. They stumble through the doors, past her doorman- again, she's shown him worse- and fall into the elevator.

As soon as she presses the right button, he's got her backed against the wall, grinding into her as he sucks on the soft skin under her chin. She cards her fingers through his thick hair (_nice hair_) as her other hand moves down to squeeze his ass (_very nice ass_), one long leg coming up to wrap around his hips.

One of his hands slides up her skirt, over the hot, damp skin of her thigh until he's got two fingers pressing against her.

"_Fuck_," she gasps as he moves his hand over her, rubbing against her in tight little circles over her underwear, the damp lace moving roughly over her clit. He moves his fingers down, pressing into her through the fabric; she lets out a little yelp and dear God, has the elevator always been this _slow_?

Finally, the doors open and she spins, walking backwards as she leads him down the hallway, mouth working firmly against his. She only turns when they reach the door at the end, fumbling with her keys as he presses into her from behind. He's trailing sloppy kisses up her neck, rucking up her skirt, and thank goodness she has the whole floor, or else any nosy neighbours would be getting a great view of his hands palming the bare cheeks of her ass.

They spill inside her apartment, dropping their coats on the floor before she shoves him up against the door. His mouth finds hers again as she goes for the buttons of his shirt, working them open with trembling fingers. She pulls her lips away from his to plant soft, suckling kisses over his skin as she goes.

His hands slide up her arms and around her back, dragging down the zipper on her dress just enough so he can pull the top half down, exposing her chest. She quickly frees her arms, leaving the fabric bunched around her waist, as he takes one breast in his mouth, laving her nipple through the thin material of her bra.

Castle moves to the other breast, giving it the same treatment as his hands come to rest on her behind, grinding her into him. She's got him by the hair, holding him to her tightly as she groans at the feel of his tongue and the coarse, wet lace against her.

Who _is_ this guy? She might not kick him out first thing in the morning; might make him stay for another round.

* * *

Rick pulls down the damp cups of her bra, unable to tease any longer, and takes one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. He can't help but groan at the feel of her fists in his hair, the delicious tingle of pain as she tugs him ever closer. One hand leaves her backside to palm at her other breast, warm and heavy in his hand.

She's writhing against him now, letting out a low keening sound as he scrapes his teeth over her nipple. Kate curses softly and tugs sharply at his hair, pulling him away. She drags his mouth up to hers, lips meeting in a quick, dirty kiss, before she takes him by the hand once again.

Rick follows in a daze as she leads him through the apartment, presumably toward the bedroom. He's entranced by the sight of her- hair thoroughly mussed from his fingers, dress bunched around her waist, thin bra straps falling down her arms, tiny scrap of a thong offering him an unencumbered view of her ass.

The bare expanse of her back, broken only by the lacy strip of her bra, is calling to him and Rick pitches forward, kissing down the line of her spine. He sends them both reeling into the nearest wall, her palms coming up to soften the blow.

Kate pushes back, grinds hard against him, and he lets out a loud groan.

This is as close to the bedroom as they're going to get.

Rick presses against her; the skin exposed by his half-open shirt slides against her back, red hot, and he moans at the friction. One hand comes up to find her breast again, tugging sharply in time with her moans. The other circles around, presses flat against her center and holds her to him.

He bucks against her and buries his face in her neck.

"You smell like cherries," it comes out in a dazed sort of whisper, mumbled and low. Her dark chuckle has him circling the heel of his hand hard against her clit.

"Such a _tease_," she groans, and then she's shifting, one arm fumbling in between her body and the wall before she presses a condom into the hand at her groin.

"Where were you _keeping_ that?" He huffs, but he's already fighting with his zipper, pulling his slacks down just enough to free his erection.

Once he manages to roll on the condom- and he really should get a _fucking medal_ for that, what with the lust and the alcohol and Kate Beckett's low little moans in his ear- he looks up to find her watching him over her shoulder, eyes smoky and legs spread wide.

He kisses her once, hard, his tongue diving into her mouth. When he pulls away, one hand reaches down to move aside the sopping triangle of lace at her center, and then he's guiding himself into her, both of them moaning wantonly.

Rick has to stop, has to be still for a moment as her heat engulfs him. He's breathing raggedly in her ear, her hair brushing over his nose with every huff. He returns to his earlier position- one hand sliding over her clit, the other palming her breast, and she keens.

"Fucking _move_," she gasps, already rolling her hips against him. Rick groans low in the back of his throat and complies, slowly withdrawing, sliding almost all the way out before he crashes back into her.

It's not long before the pace becomes frantic; he's slamming into her, tugging hard on her nipple, teeth buried in the juncture between her neck and her shoulder. Her cheek is pressed flat against the wall in front of her, and the only noise in the dark apartment are their moans, their heavy panting, and the wet sounds of skin on skin.

Rick feels her flutter around him and his rhythm falters momentarily. He grunts against her skin and pinches her clit, shivering at the sound of her gasp.

"Again," she cries, breathless, as one of her hands leaves the wall; she reaches back around them and clutches at his thigh, long nails digging into his skin.

Rick complies, squeezing hard at the bundle of nerves as he rocks into her once, twice; she lets out a shriek and clenches around him, her body shuddering.

He sucks hard at her neck, tries to hold on long enough to work her through her climax, but it's a matter of seconds before he's pumping into her messily and groaning into her hair.

He lifts his head, gasping into her cheek as he starts to come down. They're still firmly entwined- his hand cupping her mound, her nails embedded in his thigh, holding him to her.

Finally, they both quiet, but still he makes no move to pull out of her. Rick can feel her shaking against him as her knees finally give out and she starts to slide downward. He quickly shifts, moving his weight forward to trap her between his body and the wall.

She gasps at the movement and lifts her hand off the wall, reaching back awkwardly until she can card her fingers through his damp hair.

He can only pant into her skin.

* * *

Rick wakes to the sound of his phone, ringing somewhere beyond the thick fog of his mind. His head is pounding. His mouth feels as if it's full of cotton.

He finally manages to pry his eyes open, only to slam them shut at the sunlight pouring in through the window. He groans.

The ringing stops. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's not a body. Maybe it's just Alexis, looking to yell at him about the 'don't wait up' text he sent the night before. Maybe-

It starts again, persistent as ever.

He feels the bed shift and (slowly, _very slowly_) cracks his eyes open again. Kate is sprawled on her stomach, face hidden by her tangled mound of hair, the sheets lying low on her hips.

She shifts again, burying her head in her pillow, and all he can make out are the words, "_fucking phone_".

Fighting a wave of dizziness, Castle pulls himself out of bed and stumbles towards his pants, finally discarded in the doorway of her bedroom. He fumbles for his phone, glaring at Espo's face on the screen.

"Hrrmpf," is all that comes out by way of greeting.

"Castle," Esposito is laughing on the other end, "crawl out of whatever hole you landed in last night. We've got a body."

Rick only groans.

"It's Castle-flavoured," his teammate promises, and that gets a smirk out of him. He does like the weird ones.

"Address?" He rasps out, voice thick and rough.

"I'll text it to you," Espo chuckles, taking pity on him. "Try not to pass out on the way over."

Rick hangs up, tossing his phone back to the floor and glancing at the bed. Kate's shifted again, rolled onto her side, and he can see marks littering her body- neck, breasts, stomach. He knows he can't look much better; sure enough, he looks down to his thigh and sees little half-moon marks on his skin.

Those are going to hurt. He's pretty sure she _drew blood_ at one point.

He manages to pull on his boxers before he staggers into her bathroom, zeroing in on her mouthwash. He has to chuckle at he snoops through her drawers, finds a stash of spare toothbrushes.

Well she was- what? Number _seven_ on the New York Ledger's list of most eligible bachelorettes?

He cleans him self up at well as possible- he won't have time to change on his way to the scene, will have to stop by his place on the way back to the precinct. He's dreading the comments from his fellow cops, but at least the captain won't be there to see his walk of shame.

As he dresses, slowly and clumsily (_coffee. need coffee_.), he takes in her place is _nice_- nicer than anything he could dream of on his detective's salary. Her room is light and airy, sunlight streaming in through the windows, although it doesn't seem to be disturbing her. His eyes move to her dresser, landing on a couple pictures of Kate with a smiling older woman who could only be her mother.

_Famously fatherless_, his mind supplies. If he were more sentimental, he might remark on their matching daddy issues. But he's not a romantic. He's a cop.

Once he's as presentable as he's going to get, Castle falters. Should he wake her? Leave a note? It's been ages since he had a once night stand; he's a little rusty on the etiquette.

Should he leave his _number_? Then again, maybe it's best to forget this whole night…

"Beckett?" He tries, and she groans, shifting again.

"Sorry," he winces, keeping his voice down, "I have to run. I have a case…"

"Mmmhmm," she moans into her pillow, raising one arm to wave him off.

Well, that's that. It almost seems a shame…

Still, getting dragged home for a night of hot sex with his favourite author? Not a bad story to tell his fellow detectives at poker night.

* * *

Ryan and Esposito are waiting for him when he steps onto the curb, wearing matching smirks.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Ryan grins.

"You two aren't looking so hot yourselves," Rick points out, taking in their bloodshot eyes as he sips his coffee.

"At least we're not wearing last night's clothes," Esposito laughs. "And, is that…" He leans in, squinting. "Is that a _hickey_?"

"Shut up," Castle glares, not ready to share the story yet. He'll wait until he's a little more coherent.

"Man, I don't get it," Ryan grumbles as they make their way inside the building. "Castle comes out with us for the first time in, like, a _year_, and he manages to land the chick who looks like a Russian supermodel."

"Yeah, how is _Svetlana_," Espo is laughing again, but Rick is saved from answering by the ME's voice floating down the hall.

"Richard Castle!" Lanie is leaning against the doorway, looking unimpressed. "Look at you!"

"Look at him?" Espo smirks, "You should have seen the girl who took him home."

Lanie's shaking her head, looking him up and down, "I expect this kind of stunt from these two," she waves toward Ryan and Espo dismissively, "but you're supposed to be the responsible one."

"You can feel free to whip me into shape anytime, Miss Parish," Esposito is leering at her, and she only shakes her head, huffing as she leads them into the room.

Rick steps through the doorway. Freezes at the sight of the body.

"Time of death?" He says stiffly. Lanie gives him an odd look, but consults her clipboard.

"Between midnight and five AM. As always, I'll know more when we get her to the lab…"

Castle releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Good. He knows she's got an alibi, at least.

"Two shots to the chest, small caliber," he can hear Lanie faintly in the background, but he's zeroed in on the body. There's a strange adrenaline pumping through his veins- he's not sure if he's eager to work on this case or dreading it

"Does this look familiar to anyone?" Rick interrupts.

"No," Espo shrugs, "but then again, I'm not the one with the thing for freaky ones. Just give me a Jack shot Jill over Bill."

"But the freaky ones reveal more," Rick smirks. "Look at the way he covered her- modestly." He gestures to the rose petals covering the girl's body, "We won't find any evidence of sexual abuse."

"You really get that from just this?" Ryan's face is scrunched up in confusion.

"This, plus I've seen this before," Castle confesses, shrugging.

At his colleagues' silence, he continues, "Roses on her body, sunflowers on her eyes…"

The three of them continue to stare blankly, and Castle can't help but roll his eyes, an odd excitement bubbling up in him.

"Don't you guys _read_?"


End file.
